Darkness
by MMShadow
Summary: The worst has happened. How can Frank possibly continue on? Hopefully the story is better than the summary.  Please don't jump to conclusions when you start it!   This is my first story on here, so please be gentle.
1. Preface

**Hey, this is my first fanfic ever, and I really hope you like it. I'm not usually a long prose writer, but I've had the idea for this story in my head for a while, and I just really wanted to get it out. I've been working on this for a little over a month, and I just decided to start posting it. The story is completely written, so it won't be abandoned, I'm just not quite done editing it. But the first few chapters are done.**

**Anyways, like I said, this is my first fic, so no flaming, but constructive criticism is definitely appreciated. I hope you enjoy it!**

**P.S. Since I'm new to uploading, please excuse any mistakes I might make. c=**

**-:-**

**PREFACE**

They were close. Closer than most twins. Anyone who had spent more than a few minutes in the company of Frank and Joe Hardy could see the unusually strong bond the brothers had. Many of their friends envied the closeness of the brothers and how well they looked out for each other.

The two young men, a year apart, did almost everything together whether it came to sports, school, vacations, or, their favorite past-time ever since they were old enough to be taught by their father, detective work.

They had solved numerous cases on their own, already making a name for themselves, as young as they were. They even planned to open up a private investigation agency someday with their father, Fenton Hardy, a former police officer and now a world-renowned private investigator. The Hardy brothers couldn't wait to go to graduate from college and then later receive their PI licenses together and join their father in his practice professionally.

But all their hopes were shattered the day that Joe Hardy was killed during a normal case by the very people they had been trying to stop. The day Frank also died.


	2. Chapter 1

**Since the first 'chapter' was just the Preface, and not very long, I decided to upload the real first chapter right away too. I don't know how frequent I'll upload, it'll depend on the response. If you're still reading, thanks!**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 1**

Frank Hardy shot up in bed with a gasp, panting and drenched in sweat. He flitted his gaze wildly around him, expecting a different scene to be in front of him than his dark bedroom as he heaved in air to his desperate lungs.

After a few moments when his pounding heart had stilled slightly and the fiery images in his mind had fled, the dark-haired boy took a slower, shaky breath and ran his hand through his damp hair. Like every night for three months, he'd relived his brother's death, and had woken up just as it had happened.

The clock next to his bed said 2:11 AM, and he knew he wouldn't be falling asleep again tonight. Frank buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, which were already tearing up. He couldn't live like this. He was afraid to sleep, to close his eyes, for every time he did he saw Joe's face, just as it had been seconds before he'd died.

_Frank stumbled out of the van the instant it stopped, having already noted that the old, abandoned house was on fire. The blazing flames stood out harshly against the night sky. He understood the abductors had lured him here to probably fall into their trap, but he didn't care—he couldn't risk his little brother's life for his own safety. _

_He frantically searched the glowing windows, trying to find any sign of him. "Joe!" he called out, wondering if he was even here. Finally he caught sight of the blond-haired boy in a second story window, obviously secured somehow and unable to move much, looking out at him with desperate eyes, shouting something he couldn't hear._

Knowing what was coming, Frank shook his head, trying to push the memories back before he had to experience the whole thing again, but he didn't try very hard, already aware it was pointless. He could barely keep the tears from spilling down his face as he let the memories wash over him, just as they had moments before in his sleep, each wave becoming more painful.

_Just as Frank was about to sprint forward to try to get to Joe, something crashed into the back of his head and he saw stars. He staggered to one knee, immediately on the defensive, though his vision blurred and his head spun. The assailant whom he had yet to see kicked him in the back and the Hardy brother went down. Before he could attempt to stand himself and fight back, his mind screaming that he had to get Joe out of there, the man grabbed him by the back of his jacket and hauled him up before forcing the boy to face him. Though his vision was still spotting and the street light threw his attacker's face into shadow, he immediately recognized Garth Crowe, the ex-convict they had been after. He vaguely caught the sound of something metallic hitting the ground—the crowbar that had hit him._

He shuddered as a shiver ran down his body. Every time he dredged up the face of the man, no...animal, that had done this, he was filled with a white-hot rage. The man had wanted revenge on the Hardys, Fenton in particular. Well, he had gotten it. Frank could not think of anything worse than taking Joe away from the world, from his family, from him. His younger brother with a heart of gold had been the happiest, most carefree, if sometimes impulsive, person he had ever known. God, he loved that kid.

_The huge criminal gripped the front of Frank's coat, practically lifting him off his feet, and growled in his face, "Maybe now you and your father will learn to stay out of things that don't concern you." In the background Frank heard the sirens of police and an ambulance rapidly approaching as he fought fiercely to stay conscious. _

The elder boy would do anything for his little brother to be alive again, and the thought laden with guilt that plagued him day and night was _It should have been me. _If nothing else, this he was sure about; if he could turn back time, he would've taken Joe's place.

_Earlier that same day, Frank burst into his father's office, knowing he was doing research on their case while he and Joe had been following up on a lead. Fenton jerked his head up and took in his elder son's expression, realizing something was wrong at once. "Dad, they took Joe."_

He slowly moved his legs so they were hanging off the bed and settled his feet on the floor. He leaned forward and rested his now thin arms on his now bony knees, and dipped his head covered in now dull and unkempt hair.

Today was Frank's nineteenth birthday.

That realization overwhelmed him for some reason, and darkened his thoughts even more. He didn't feel any different and he didn't care. The one thing he wanted was impossible to have, and nothing could change that. What would have been his brother's eighteenth birthday three and a half weeks ago had been the second worst day of Frank's life. He had mourned the idea that his little brother would never be eighteen, officially an adult, and the nightmares had been more unbearable than ever that night.

Now the thought that he would move on to be a year older while Joe remained forever at seventeen overcame him with such feelings of deep sorrow that he felt he could never return to an existence even close to what he had had before. He would never be able to go through a birthday without thinking of his brother, frozen in adolescence. Never again could he envision his life having any light in it, just an endless, smothering blackness.

Hit with a wave of nausea and a need to get a drink of water, he wiped his face and gingerly stood up. Frank sighed wearily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he looked down at himself to see how loosely his clothes fit. In the past three months he had barely slept more than a few hours per night, maximum, and had barely eaten, hadn't worked out or exercised, played any sports...he ate and drank what he had to so he didn't collapse, but that was all.

The once-athletic boy's 6'1 frame—though he never had been as muscled as his younger brother—was now nearly skin and bones, his skin pale. He had probably lost close to thirty pounds, mostly in muscle. In addition, he never went anywhere, had shut out his friends until they had given up on trying to console him, barely said a word to anyone, even his parents. He was grateful it was the summer months and he wasn't made to go to school, to bear all the heavy, sympathetic stares he'd had to endure amid the final weeks of school a couple months ago.

Frank had always been the more logical, more rational of the two Hardy boys, but without his brother...he had completely fallen apart. He was no longer himself, just an empty shell of what he used to be. Without his brother, he just didn't see any point in any of it, and couldn't force himself to care. Why should he bother himself with things such as eating full meals or running or grades or talking when Joe would never even breathe again?

Shaking his head again, Frank silently walked to his doorway, forcing himself not to let his eyes move towards the door of the bathroom that connected his and Joe's room. He already knew what effect that had on him, and couldn't bear much more emotional assault at this point without collapsing under the bleakness of it all.

_Frank paced as he waited for his father to finish talking to Ezra Collig. He glanced at the door as he could hear his dad shouting in the next room on his cell phone, undoubtedly disagreeing with something the Chief had said, though the boy knew it was only because he was worried about Joe and wanted action as soon as possible._

_He was just passing by the home phone in his circular path around the living room when it suddenly rang, and he jumped, startled. He quickly grabbed it, hoping it was somehow Joe calling to say he'd escaped. The young man's heart tightened and his face paled as he heard a deep voice. "If you ever want to see Joseph alive again, come to this address within thirty minutes..."_

This sudden recollection, though common for Frank now, nevertheless caught him by surprise and he faltered in his pace. He leaned against the door frame and breathed heavily, choking back the guilt and tears he could feel burning behind his eyes. How could he do this? It seemed anything and everything would cause a memory to be triggered. They came enough on their own, without the help of simple objects or random thoughts.

Within another minute or two Frank had suppressed his emotions enough to be able to walk again, and he stepped forward into the hallway and down the stairs until he made his way to the kitchen where he hovered there, unmoving in the dark.

Every night, in his unconscious mind, he either relived the memories of the few hours before Joe's death, and then the actual happening in maddening slowness. Or his imagination would conjure up something more horrible, his brother calling out to him, asking why he didn't help him, save him, which only cemented the elder brother's feelings of helplessness and guilt.

But the worst he had experienced had been on the night of his brother's birthday—he would never forget—when he hadn't been able to close his eyes for more than a few minutes before his blackened mind brought up images of his brother burning right in front of him, pleading and screaming for Frank to make it stop, while Frank stood rooted to the spot unable to respond, move, or look away... _Frank, save me! Why don't you help me? Please, make it stop, it hurts so much! Frank! Frank...Frank...Frank! _It tore Frank's heart more with every beseeching cry.

He cast away the torment viciously; he didn't need this, not when being awake was his only refuge.

He knew his parents were concerned about him, didn't like that he shunned everyone, barely ate, and never smiled anymore. They urged him to see—or at least call—Callie, his girlfriend (though to be honest he wasn't sure what they were anymore); he hadn't spoken to her in at least a month, probably more. They said she was worried about him. They had also tried to convince him to see a counselor, but he couldn't do that either. He knew that their son's death had been just as hard on his parents, but they at least were finally able to come to terms with it, just like his friends had. Nobody understood, could ever understand what he had lost. He'd lost more than his little brother, he'd lost his partner, his best friend. Plans of his second year at college, a career in stopping criminals, of the whole future were now left unknown.

He'd wanted revenge at first. Frank had wanted nothing more than to take down Garth Crowe, to lock him up forever and avenge his brother's death that shouldn't have happened. But working on the case forced him to think about Joe, and the fact that he was dead, gone, slapped him in the face every time he woke up to another day of vigorous research. So he gave that up, unable to face the pain any more, choosing instead cold numbness, futile though it was. Now, even though his father still spent every waking hour trying to find the man that had torn this family apart, without Joe the despairing young man couldn't bear to even think about going back to detective work. Not ever.

"_Frank...this isn't healthy, and it doesn't help anyone. You need to get out of this room, you need to see your friends...you need to eat." His aunt Gertrude's voice seemed to drift to him like through a fog. Fenton's sister, who lived with their family now to help out, gazed sternly at her nephew, but he just stared through her with dark, empty eyes. This shook her for a split second before she steadied herself and continued more gently. "This is hard on all of us, Frank. But do you really think Joe would want you to-"_

_The sound of Joe's name cut through the fog and caused a sharp stab of pain to shoot through Frank. "Don't. Just don't," the boy said coldly, his eyes hardening. He turned away, a clear dismissal._

Completely forgetting about getting a drink of water, he suddenly had this unsettling feeling in his gut that he had somewhere to be, and he knew it had to do with Joe. He had to get out of here, somehow distract himself from musings that would only consume him deeper in the depression that had hung over him for the last three months.

_The escaped convict, hearing the nearby sirens, gave the dazed young detective one last shake before throwing him hard to the ground. The impact knocking the air out of him, he wheezed, trying to pull in a breath and watching through bleary vision as squad cars pulled up and surrounded them in a semi-circle. Officers as well as Fenton jumped out, guns at the ready. Frank saw Crowe pull out a gun of his own and point it at the prone boy, while in his other hand he held up what could only be a detonator._

"_Any one of you makes a move, and I shoot 'im, then I blow the other sky-high!" Crowe cocked the gun and started backing up, waving the detonator threateningly and still keeping the pistol directed at Frank, who had yet to catch his breath and was trying not to black out. He had one thought: _Gotta get to Joe...

_Now unaware of anything else at the moment, he slowly raised himself onto his elbow and moved his eyes towards the window where he had spotted Joe. He saw him again, though his brother wasn't near the window anymore, and it looked like he was grappling with a person whom the boy outside couldn't see. _

_His lungs taking in air again and his vision steadily clearing, Frank's frantic brown eyes locked with Joe's worried and distressed sapphire ones moments before flames leaped up in front of the younger Hardy, blocking him from view. "Joe..." Frank rasped._

_Only fifteen seconds had passed since Crowe had pulled out the gun, but it felt like an hour. None of the police had made a move yet for fear of Frank being shot or the house being blown up._

_Frank was lurching to his feet in preparation to run to the house, oblivious to all else until Crowe's evil laugh reached him through his hazy concentration, sounding distant, and then in sharp contrast, a deafening boom. To his horror, as the ground shook and he fell to the ground again, the house that trapped his brother went up in a blast of flames and smoke and shrapnel. _

_No...This couldn't be happening..._

_Frank leaped up and blindly ran in the direction of the blazing wreckage, but strong arms grabbed him before he got too far. He struggled against the iron grip in desperation. "No, JOE!" he gasped before screaming, "NOOOOOO!" _

_He didn't know how long he fought before realizing it was hopeless, and he suddenly became weak and stopped resisting. He sunk to his knees, sobbing out his brother's name as the arms of his father, now shaking, wrapped around him, along with a cold, suffocating darkness that he knew would remain inside him forever. "Joe...Joe..."_

_Joe...he was gone. Frank wasn't a big brother anymore._

_In all the confusion and chaos, Crowe slipped smugly away._

The teen exhaled a heavy, choked breath, his whole body trembling with emotion. That had been the worst minute, the worst second of his life, and his tortured mind slammed him with it every time he slept, and he'd always wake up with a gasp, or even shouting his brother's name some nights. And he always wondered why. Why hadn't he been able to feel it? He'd thought—since he and his brother had been so close that they'd always been able to sense when the other was in danger or needed help—that he would have felt something more, something other than this deep, fathomless emptiness that now filled all of his body and mind. That was it; he felt nothing. Nothing other than a grief and loneliness so great it knocked him flat, and a jagged hole in his heart that was incurable.

Frank finally succumbed to his mental anguish and let the tears flow silently. He wandered into the dark living room, lost and unsure of what to do, though something still gnawed at him, something trying to make itself known. He absently scanned the room, not sure what he was seeking. His watery gaze caught sight of a reflection—the moonlight hitting a picture frame.

He numbly stepped forward until he was standing in front of the photo, and he picked it up off the table to examine in the light of the moon shining through the window. The light barely gleamed off the dark, bedraggled hair on his bowed head. He sobbed and blinked back fresh tears as he recognized the photo, taken last winter during a skiing trip in the mountains. His mother, Laura, had taken the picture, and it showed Frank and Joe laughing as they teamed up against their father in a snowy wrestling match. They all looked so happy and everything seemed so effortless; everything as it should be. His throat closed up and he carefully set the frame back in its place.

He aimlessly scanned the dim, empty living room. Then it came to him. Closure.

He needed closure. It definitely wouldn't solve everything, not even close. But it would, maybe, help him take a step closer to being better, to dealing with his pain and accepting things could never be the same. He owed at least that much to Joe, who he knew wouldn't want this life for Frank. _He wouldn't understand though, _Frank grieved. _He doesn't know what it's like. _

But how? What could he possibly do? The young man wracked his brain, trying to pull something out of his whirling thoughts, and then he remembered. Joe's grave. He had only been there once, on the day of the funeral. And even then he had run out, before they had lowered the casket into the ground along with the remains of Joe. Too young, his own _brother..._

He glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:40 A.M. It was still the dead of night, but it couldn't wait, not if he didn't want to drive himself crazy first. He now knew where he needed to go, and it had to be now. The cemetery.


	3. Chapter 2

**Wow, the reception this got was even better than I hoped! Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts. I'm sorry it seems really depressing right now (poor Frank!) but I promise it'll get better. Again, thanks if you are still reading! This one's a bit short, but important. Please review! (or not)**

**I thought I might update every other day, but since I got more faves/alerts/reviews than I ever expected, I decided to just go ahead and upload again today! =D But I might just wait until Wednesday next time to upload the third chapter...it depends. ;)  
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**Disclaimer: oops, forgot this last time. Don't own any of these characters! You can obviously see what would happen if I did. x.x**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 2**

Now that he had a set mission in mind, morbid though it was, Frank moved quickly, yet still stealthily so he didn't wake anyone. He was glad he didn't have to worry about waking Aunt Gertrude, whose room was on the first floor. She was away, staying with a sick friend. He grabbed his dark hooded sweatshirt off the rack near the door, shoved his arms through the sleeves, and zipped it up; even though it was a summer night and probably fifty or sixty degrees outside, he always felt cold now. He snagged his keys off the hook and swiftly disarmed the alarm system before stepping outside and turning to shut the door softly and lock it.

The tense teen pivoted on his heel and strode habitually toward his and Joe's...toward his black van, and climbed in. He accidentally peered to his right like he was expecting something before he could stop himself. Frank forced himself to stare straight ahead until he dipped his chin so his forehead rested on the top of the steering wheel. He swallowed thickly and told himself, _He's never going to be sitting there again. Get a grip. That's the whole point of this little trip. _He briefly considered taking another vehicle, his parents' car, or his motorcycle even. But something told him it should be the van.

Suddenly wanting to get this over with as soon as he could, with sharp movements Frank brought his head up, jabbed the key into the ignition, and buckled his seat belt—though now more out of indifferent routine than self-preservation. He put the vehicle into neutral so he could roll the van down the driveway noiselessly, and not until he bounced onto the black pavement did he turn the key and switch on the headlights. He shifted to Drive and sped down the gloomy street, eerily lit only by the evenly spaced, orange-glowing streetlights.

He decided to take the next fifteen minutes it normally took to get to the graveyard to mentally prepare himself. A dozen times he contemplated turning back, but he would abruptly shake the idea. He needed this; that along with the feeling churning in his gut impelled him to unconsciously speed up.

_Though he was surrounded by his friends and family—even half the police force were here to pay their respects—he felt completely alone. He was an only child. Frank clenched his teeth to keep from sobbing as tears poured down his cheeks. The preacher in front went on to say how no one should be taken so young, especially not one who was so devoted to helping people and was loved by so many. Frank barely heard him; he already knew all this, and inside he just felt shock, like there was no way this could be real. It all seemed like he was trapped in some sort of horrific, endless dream. He moved his eyes to listlessly stare at the memorial stone set at the head of the grave. _

_JOSEPH PAUL HARDY_

_Born: June 20, 1987_

_Died: April 10, 2005_

_BELOVED SON, BROTHER, AND FRIEND _

_Sensing a quiet, Frank turned his detached gaze upward and noticed the preacher had finished his sermon. Some men he didn't bother to mentally identify were beginning to gather around the casket to lower it into the ground. He shivered as a chill ran down his spine and spread through his whole body. _

_This wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to end this way. He should've been able to protect Joe, he should've been there to stop the man from taking him, should've been able to fight off the man and save him from the fire. A soft sob escaped him. _I'm sorry I let you down, little brother. I'm so sorry...

_Suddenly unable to accept the cruel reality—_his brother was dead—_the destroyed young man swayed before he staggered into the aisle...and took off. He ran away from the service, from his distraught family, from the truth, though he knew he couldn't run forever. _

It still hurt so much, and he still couldn't escape the pain.

Frank jerked back to the present, and his eyes focused on the road again. Blinking, he realized he had missed a turn a few blocks back. Already in a grim mood, he banged the steering wheel with his fist in frustration at his lapse in concentration. Grumbling to himself, Frank just decided he'd have to take a different route. Even though he was going faster than he originally intended, with still about five minutes to go and, trying to make up for the lost time, he pushed the accelerator down further and whipped around the next corner at a dangerous speed.

With a gasp he slammed on the brakes just as a man standing on the street dove out of the way. He had almost hit someone! Adrenaline was starting to pump through him and, quickly shutting off the van and unbuckling his seat belt, he jumped out the door intending to see if the man was okay. As he was rounding the front of the van he heard a voice. He froze near the left headlight with one hand on the hood when he saw a familiar figure sitting in the glow of the streetlight.

"What are you, drunk? Watch it, buddy, you could've killed m-" The young man still on the ground and rubbing his head stopped mid-rebuke when he raised his head to see who it was who had almost run him down.

Frank felt dizzy. He assumed he must've crashed, been knocked unconscious, and was dreaming again. As the figure raised his blond head Frank's incredulous dark brown eyes met vivid blue eyes, ones he thought he'd never see again.

**-:-**

**Mwahaha! I'm evil, I know, what with this being so short and also leaving you with a bit of a cliffie. But believe me, there was no where else to break up the chapters. I promise I'll update soon. ;)**


	4. Chapter 3

**Alrighty, here's the next chapter! I hope I didn't make all of you too mad by making you wait. Maybe you don't really care. But either way, here's chapter three. No Frank in this one, but I guess in this case maybe that's a good thing, right?**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 3**

_Frank felt dizzy. He assumed he must've crashed, been knocked unconscious, and was dreaming again. As the figure raised his blond head Frank's incredulous dark brown eyes met vivid blue eyes, ones he thought he'd never see again._

ABOUT ONE HOUR EARLIER

Four hours after escaping his captors, Joe Hardy was still walking. It was slow going, due to how weak he still was. He wished he could at least jog, but he didn't have the energy. It had been, as far as he knew, a couple days since he had last eaten. That is, two days since he was last fed. Then again, he also hadn't been allowed to exercise nearly as much as he usually did during his three months of being kept prisoner, so he was out of shape slightly and that didn't help much either.

Joe stopped and knelt down to take another one of his increasingly frequent rest breaks. He murmured to himself, "Man, what I wouldn't give for a cheeseburger right now. Or one of Tony's pizzas." Closing his eyes for a second, he took a weary breath.

Of course, what he really wanted was just to get home. He had no idea what had happened to his brother and father after the explosion, he just hoped they had gotten away and were okay. What he was really wondering was why they hadn't found him. He hated to admit it, but he'd had complete faith in them to find him within a few days, a week or two tops, and he was baffled as to why they hadn't shown up. That also made him worry a bit, like maybe they actually _had_ been hurt.

But that was all irrelevant at the moment, and Joe swept his now shaggy hair out of his eyes before getting back up. He figured he had at least an hour, maybe a little more, before he would reach Bayport, and he wanted to get there as soon as possible, now that it was all over. He'd gotten away from his abductors at a gas station some twenty-five miles back, and couldn't believe it when it turned out he was only about thirty miles from home. He had found someone willing to let him hitchhike the first fifteen miles or so, before they'd had to turn a different way. And the boy had been following the highway by foot ever since; firstly because it was too late for any traffic, and secondly, even if someone did pass him, he doubted they would give him a ride, thinking only some sort of serial killer would be out here at this time of night.

His feet had begun to drag a couple hours ago, and his whole body felt sort of numb. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that he had escaped, finally, after so long. He was finding it hard to keep going because of his exhaustion, but he wouldn't stop. And even though the stifling isolation around the youth unnerved him—he was still completely alone, though he was no longer in that cell—he used his numbness to his advantage and pushed it to the back of his mind.

Joe kicked tiredly at a pebble as he trudged along. He really missed his brother, and not just because it had been so incredibly boring being kept captive in the same place for three months. This was the longest they'd ever been separated, even when Frank had left for college last year. He expected that Frank was probably crazy with worry about him by now, and he had good reason to be. That big ape, Garth Crowe, was a seriously bad guy.

Joe massaged the back of his sore neck. He himself was amazed that he wasn't hurt, at least, not compared to how badly he could've been, or worse. Sure, the bad guys had roughed him off a bit and he had a few bruises and cuts, but those were nothing. He'd had worse; it kind of came with the job—an occupational hazard. Frank had always been a little overprotective of him, but it was mutual and one of the things he loved about his big brother. He always had his back and tried his best to make sure his younger brother was safe. Of course, he didn't always succeed, like this time. But Joe didn't blame Frank for this, not at all.

If anything, it was his own fault. He shook his head as he thought about it, disgusted with himself. How could he have let that thug of Crowe's get the drop on him? He snorted. _He looked like he was about as smart as a doorknob, _he thought sarcastically. _Then again, when you're that big I suppose you don't need to be a rocket scientist, at least not for the job he was given. _

Three months ago, while Joe had been leaning against the van outside, Frank had only been gone inside the store a minute or two when the brute ambushed the younger Hardy. For the record, Joe by no means lacked in either the muscle or self-defense department, but the guy was just extremely big in stereotypical goon fashion. It didn't help that the attack was entirely unexpected, and the young man was grabbed from behind and had a cloth soaked in chloroform pressed to his nose before he had the chance to yell out or fight back. The rest was all a blank until he'd woken up with a headache in that old house.

Deciding to save thinking about the time after that until he could tell his brother what had happened, Joe started thinking about other things to distract himself from his aching legs and to pass the time. He imagined what Vanessa was doing. _Oh, well, I guess she'd be sleeping._ He chuckled to himself, before sighing. His blond-haired, gray-eyed girlfriend was totally loyal to him, as he was to her, but...it had been three months. He hoped she'd waited up for him, but he wouldn't begrudge her if she hadn't.

Joe began to wonder what the rest of his friends were up to. Had they helped Frank and his dad search for him? No doubt Con Riley, Chief Collig, and much of the police force had been looking for him, at least for a while. But that still didn't explain why he was never found. Were his captors really that good at covering their tracks? All the more reason Joe had to get back and see Frank.

For the next hour he kept on walking, thinking about all the things he'd do once he got back and stopping to rest every ten or fifteen minutes. Besides being reunited with Frank and his family, he really wanted to just sit down and eat a ton at Mr. Pizza's. Next, since he had missed out on half the summer, he wanted to hit the beach, or even better, take their boat, the _Sleuth_, out for a spin on the lake. He let out a longing breath; he could already feel the spray of water on his face.

More than anything though, he wanted to be in his own house, in his own room on the second floor and sleeping in his own comfortable bed. Then in the morning Frank would decidedly drag him out of bed after at least a half hour of halfhearted attempts to rouse him, and they'd go downstairs and eat breakfast, joking around and teasing each other. Frank, of course, not quite being the vivacious one that Joe was, would be on the receiving end of more jokes than the younger brother.

Joe rubbed at his eyes wearily with the heels of his hands. That was what he missed most right now, the brotherly banter and sincerity he and Frank shared. That's why they were such a great team; their personalities meshed perfectly. Joe was the energetic, impulsive one while Frank was the logical one who thought things through.

If only his brother was here to keep him awake. Joe wouldn't even mind if Frank were here, reading out of a computer manual! But then again, if Frank were here, Joe probably wouldn't be in this situation. Frank always knew what to do, or at least, in the rare times he didn't, he pretended to in order to reassure Joe. He wondered if his older brother knew how much Joe needed him. The youngest Hardy felt another pang of loneliness, and he wished the miles would crawl by just a little quicker.

A short while later, when the eighteen-year-old turned off the highway onto a smaller road and strained to spot any signs that he was near Bayport, he was rewarded with the appearance of the shapes of dark buildings ahead. _First things first, gotta get home. _Joe continued forward, gaining a bit of strength from the knowledge that he was only about fifteen minutes away from home now.

He ambled down the main street illuminated by street lamps, noting how quiet and empty the whole place was. It was almost kind of spooky, and only amplified his longing to get back to familiar neighborhood. Catching sight of a bench on the sidewalk near the next corner, he made for it planning to take one last breather before tackling on the literal home stretch.

All of a sudden Joe heard the revving of an engine and then a squeal of tires, and before he could make sense of it he was staring down a set of headlights and grill of a vehicle.

With a spontaneous burst of adrenaline and reacting on pure reflexes, he hurled his body to the left just as he heard the screech of brakes, a split second before he would have been hit. He slapped his hands and knees down to catch himself, skinning them in the process.

A little dizzy from his exertion, he sat up and was massaging his head with a scraped up hand when he heard a car door slam. More than a little annoyed at his close call, he started to scold the driver gruffly. "What are you, drunk? Watch it, buddy, you could've killed m-" He cut off his reprimand when he pushed his tired blue eyes up and saw the pale man who was standing there, not fifteen feet away.

**-:-**

**Yep, sorry, their actual reunion isn't till next chapter. But if you review I can just maybe, possibly, if I try real hard, have the next chapter up tomorrow. ;D**


	5. Chapter 4

**Ok, so apparently that last chapter wasn't quite satisfactory, but I'll just keep going. Thanks to those of you who did review, and to those of you who read as well! Here's the next chapter, where the boys are actually back together again. Yay!**

**Disclaimer: arg, it's so hard to remember to do this! None of the characters are mine...unfortunately.**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 4**

Frank had not moved for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a few seconds. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what was happening. It had to be some sort of hallucination. Had he finally lost it, gone off the deep end? Or had his brain dug up some new thing to dream, odd as it was? Had he even woken up at all earlier? The form on the street looked like Joe, but maybe his messed up imagination was just projecting what he had been wanting for so long.

"Frank?" The same voice from moments before penetrated his jumbled thoughts and he refocused on the blond boy sitting in the gleam of the streetlight on the edge of the sidewalk just in time to see a relieved smile stretch across his face.

As the younger one was rising to one knee so he could hoist himself to his feet, Joe beamed. He couldn't believe his luck! "Is that you, Frank? Man, am I glad to see y-"

In a flash Frank was in front of Joe, falling to his knees and grabbing him in a tight embrace before the younger teen was able to let out another sound. Joe could feel Frank's whole body shaking as he wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders in return. Surprised and somewhat alarmed at the intensity of Frank's reaction, he wondered what had happened while he was gone, especially since he could feel that Frank was a lot thinner than he remembered, emaciated, as if he had been sick for a long time. But he was so glad to see his brother again right now that he didn't question it, just buried his face in the hollow of his brother's neck.

Tears streaming down his face, Frank pulled back, but his hands remained on Joe's shoulders, gripping them firmly as if to hold himself up. His still swimming but suddenly warmer chocolate brown eyes scanned his little brother's face. Joe was a bit thinner and paler than he used to be with faded bruises mottling his skin, and his golden locks were longer, but it was definitely and unmistakeably him. He put his hand to Joe's head, then his arm, before resting it back on the base of the younger one's neck, as if making sure he was real. As he stared into Joe's confused azure eyes he genuinely smiled for the first time in three months.

The grin wavered along with his voice as he whispered, "Joe, I- I can't believe it. I thought you were dead."

Joe, thrown by the emotion in his brother's voice, gazed back into his brother's eyes and saw the pain and despair flash in them as he said this, and the younger brother wasn't sure how it got there. He was too tired to put the pieces together at the moment. He tentatively touched the arm that was still on his shoulder. "But you didn't hit me, bro, I'm okay. See? You didn't even graze me..." He trailed off when he caught a glimpse of this weird look that appeared on Frank's face. His concern deepened."What? What is it?"

Frank's visage turned even more grim now that he realized Joe must not know what he had lived through. Motioning towards the bench only about ten feet away and next to the lamppost he replied, "Let's sit down first." Joe nodded, his exhaustion catching up with him again, but sleeping would have to wait a while. He could tell something urgent was on his brother's mind, and he wanted to relate his own story as well.

Frank removed his hands from Joe's shoulders in order to seize the blond around the chest, helping him up. Joe gently pushed his brother's hands away. "It's okay, Frank, I'm not hurt."

With a slightly offended look that disappeared as soon as it came, Frank transferred his hand to Joe's elbow and guided him to the bench.

Sitting down and facing his brother, Joe waited for Frank to explain what was going on. The overhead light caused the gauntness of the older brother's face and the dark circles beneath his eyes to be exaggerated, along with the hauntedness that still remained there.

Frank hesitated a moment, then began in a quiet, forlorn voice that was rough with emotion. "Joe...we all thought you were dead. You were kidnapped, then trapped in the burning house, and then when the bomb went off...we...everyone was so sure there was no chance you could be..." He paused at Joe's shocked expression, then went on. "We...it's been hard, Joe. Really hard. I couldn't..." Unable to continue he hung his head and seemed to droop under the weight of the recollection.

Joe reeled at this revelation. Dead? They'd all thought he was dead? For all this time? But then it made sense. They hadn't seen what had happened, not all of it. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that would be like, if the whole situation was reversed. It felt like a load was lifted off him only to be replaced by a new one. The guilt he had experienced for allowing himself to become somewhat disappointed in his brother and father when they didn't rescue him was transformed into a guilt for doubting them, and for what they had gone through because of him. But that could all be over now.

Joe reached out and rubbed his brother's back, trying to comfort him. "It's all right, Frank. I was a prisoner for a long time, but I'm back, and I don't plan on going anywhere for a while." He paused, then trying to dispel the tension he quipped, "Well, I would kill for a pizza right now, but that can wait."

At this, Frank raised his head and smiled appreciatively, his eyes shining. Without a word he stood and offered his hand to help Joe up. With a return grin, Joe accepted the proffered hand and rose also, glad to be by his brother's side again. Unexpectedly Frank used the hand to pull him into another quick hug as he murmured thickly, "I really missed you, little brother."

With just as much sincerity, Joe replied, "I missed you too, big brother." After one last clap on the shoulder, the brothers separated and started for the van. Joe sighed heavily, "Man, Frank, you have no idea how bad I want to go home." He gave Frank—who was on the other side of the van—an intense look through the window that was interrupted briefly as they climbed in. "Hey, bro...how are Mom and Dad? Are they okay?"

The dark-haired older brother now seated in the driver's seat shot Joe a glum look. "Well, they're as good as they can be, I guess." He grimaced. "Better than me," he muttered almost to himself. Speaking up again he elaborated, "Dad's spent every day trying to track down Crowe and his men...he wants them in jail for life. But they seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. Apparently not," he spit bitterly.

He started up the ignition and carefully made a U-turn to head back home and drove much slower than before, wanting to drag out his first minutes back with his brother. Frank turned to look at him as often as he could, taking in the sight of his living, breathing brother like a blind man whose vision had just been restored. It seemed surreal that just a little while ago, he'd commanded himself to accept that his brother would never sit there beside him ever again. Did Joe have a clue just how important he was to Frank, how much the simple action of being seated next to him in theirvan meant to the older brother?

Joe studied his brother's unfamiliar face, trying to read him. "What about you? Were you looking for them too?"

Frank felt an overwhelming guilt wash over him. He should've helped his dad, then maybe they could've found Crowe, and Joe along with him. "No...I'm sorry, Joe...I couldn't. I couldn't even think about facing Crowe...because..." He pounded the steering wheel, becoming increasingly angry with himself. "I should've helped Dad search for him. We could've found you! You weren't dead..." The ashamed young man clutched the wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "I'm sorry, Joe. I failed you."

Joe regarded his disheartened brother compassionately. This only showed how different the two were. He himself would've been filled with an all-consuming rage, wanting nothing else than revenge. It would have taken over his life, who he was, and he wouldn't have ever stopped until it was satisfied. But Frank wasn't like him.

"No, Frank, I don't blame you, never. I can understand how bad it must have been..." He was thinking of his first girlfriend and true love, Iola Morton, as he said this, who had been killed in a car bomb meant for him and his brother. That had been a desolate time for him, but Frank had helped him through it, the only one who could. If it had been Frank who had died three months ago, or Joe had believed he had, he would've lost himself forever. Then again, his brother didn't look like the same man he once was either...

Frank smiled weakly. His guilt wasn't completely appeased, but he felt a bit lighter now that he'd heard Joe say out loud that he didn't blame him. Also remembering Iola, he glanced over at Joe in understanding. The love Joe had for Iola obviously wasn't the same kind the brothers shared, but it was just as strong. "I know, Joe."

There were a couple minutes of comfortable, companionable silence as they drove, flashes of light passing over them periodically. Then Joe turned and watched his brother for a few moments, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Frank?"

"Yeah, Joe?"

"What were you doing out here at this time of night?" The younger brother scrutinized Frank's face as he waited for an answer.

Only just recalling where he'd been going himself, Frank shifted, then spoke in a detached undertone. "Like I said...it's been hard."

Joe tried to make sense of this. Then the inkling of an alarming idea crossed his mind. He knew, in the area Frank was driving, there was a tall, old railroad bridge that went across the river and wasn't used anymore... He had to know. "Frank, where were you going...what were you going to do?" he implored in a distressed tone.

Seeming to catch the note in his brother's voice, Frank quickly refuted with a wave of his hand , "No! No, whatever you're thinking, nothing like that..." He sighed and paused again before responding, "The cemetery. I was going to the cemetery to...visit your grave. I...couldn't sleep, and I haven't really been there yet, so I thought maybe going would..." He peered over at his brother who had a weird look on his face and suddenly realized just how morbid all that now sounded.

Dismissing it for now, Joe all of sudden felt anxious as he caught sight of their dark house and they rolled into the driveway. When they had rolled up to the garage and parked the van, he just sat there and stared at the house. How do you just out-of-the-blue show up at home, seemingly back from the dead? How would his parents react?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and directed his nervous gaze at his brother. Frank smiled warmly. "You ready, little bro?" Comforted and encouraged by his brother's presence, Joe nodded, and they both stepped out and headed for the house.


	6. Chapter 5

**Well, as probably all of you know, the site was down for most of yesterday, so I couldn't update. And I know none of you could review or anything, but thanks to those of you who read!**

**I'm sorry if there are any holes in this chapter, I tried to cover everything the best I could so as not to insult Joe's intelligence.**

**Anyways, please R&R! Do not own anything 'cept the plot.**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 5**

Once inside the house, Frank and Joe walked quietly to the kitchen where they turned on the light. Frank motioned for his brother to sit in a chair. "Why don't you get something to eat, bro. You look like you could use it."

Joe raised one eyebrow and looked Frank up and down. "What, and you don't?" Frank didn't answer, and Joe sighed, deciding to leave that conversation for later. "Never mind. Besides, I'd rather wait till I see my parents."

Frank nodded in understanding. "Okay, just stay here a minute." He wasn't exactly sure how to break it to them, but not wanting to wait any longer, he hurried for the stairway. Rushing up two at a time, he rushed around the corner at the top of the stairs and swiftly made his way to the door of his parents' room. Without going in, he knocked urgently and called, "Dad! Mom!"

Late-night disturbances weren't uncommon—at least they didn't used to be, and old habits die hard—so it was no time at all before the door was thrown open and Frank was face-to-face with Fenton. "Frank? What is it, Frank? Is something wrong?" It wasn't until Frank saw his dad looking so worried that he realized this was the first time he had spoken to anyone with any sort of inflection in a long time.

"Frank? Please, tell us, what's wrong?" The dark-haired boy saw his mother over his dad's shoulder, also looking concerned. He only smiled broadly and grabbed his parents in an abrupt hug.

"Nothing's wrong. Just the opposite in fact." Before they could ask for further explanation, he pulled away and requested urgently, "Just come downstairs right away. Trust me." With that, the exuberant teen whirled around and dashed downstairs, followed more slowly by the confused couple.

When they reached the kitchen, Frank turned back around to face his parents. His elated grin was still present when he exclaimed, "Mom, Dad, Joe's alive! He's alive!" He stepped out of the way so they could see their blond-haired son sitting at the table, then walked over and moved behind his brother so he and their parents could have their reunion. Now that all of the past twenty-five minutes had finally sunk in, Frank couldn't stop smiling. He just couldn't get over that fact that his brother was really and truly alive.

Laura gasped and brought a shaky hand to her mouth. She looked up at her husband in disbelief, who also seemed to be dazed. Joe stood up and took a step toward his parents, then waited for them. Laura returned her gaze to him, and finally taking it in, she let out a sob and rushed for him, engulfing him in her arms. "Oh, Joe! It really is you!"

His gaping mouth closing, Fenton joined them in the embrace, not sure how this was possible, but not questioning it, at least for now. He had his son back. He glanced at his beaming older son with tear-filled eyes. Both of his sons.

-:-:-:-:-

A few minutes later everyone was in the living room, gathered around Joe who was seated on the couch close to Frank. Their parents had pulled up chairs facing the two, desperate to know how their son was alive.

Tears still gleaming in her eyes, Laura held Joe's hand in both of hers. "How can you be alive? What happened?" Fenton leaned forward intently, also eager to hear his answer.

The eighteen-year-old alternated his gaze between his two parents, then looked to Frank once for support before he commenced. "Well, it was Crowe. He captured me and he's had me this whole time, though I have no clue where. That's really all it was." Joe swallowed as he remembered, and wasted no time. "At first, I was kept in the same room with my hands tied for a while, given only water every now and then. A few days, at least. Then when it became obvious I'd be there for a while–or when they'd figured out what to do with me–they moved...well, forced...me to another room, similar to a jail cell."

He glanced at his mother, not sure how many details to include and not wanting to upset her too much. But she only nodded determinedly; she'd heard worse before. Hearing what had actually happened to her son was relatively reassuring, considering what they'd all previously believed.

"The door was made of solid iron bars, no chance of breaking it down. There was a small cot and a private bathroom, but only one window, and it was barred, too. Even if it wasn't, it would've been way too small to fit through, and all I saw through it was grass. I must've been in a basement of some sort, in the middle of nowhere. The walls and floor were made of concrete, and it was really cold."

Joe felt a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of sympathy and comfort from his brother. He smiled gratefully, then looked knowingly at his dad before he could ask. "No, there was no chance for me to try to overtake anyone. They'd wait till I fell asleep before leaving me food and clothes. If I didn't sleep, I didn't eat. Besides, I tried faking once, but I realized they didn't even open the door, just slid the food in through a slot at the bottom."

He sighed tiredly, reminded of the endlessly boring days spent in his cell. "I went through every scenario in my head, trying to figure a way out. But no one even spoke to me. The only things in my room were the cot with some thin bedding, the small empty bathroom, and a light bulb that was turned off by someone else, somewhere else, when it got dark. I counted how many days I was there; every morning I would make myself memorize that day's 'number' so I would remember it. It's not like I had anything better to do." He didn't tell them that he'd gotten so bored out of his mind that he'd begun counting the bricks in the walls, and had even talked to himself on occasion. Though it had been three whole months of nothing but those four walls; who could blame him?

With a sarcastic half-smile Joe remarked dryly, using an attempt at humor to mask his trepidation, "They must've started feeling sorry for me, 'cause after a week or two of doing nothing but thinking and sleeping, they started sliding random books in with my food. I went through books so fast I had a new one every day when I got my food." He grimaced. _If they could call that slop food._

His dad interrupted him. "You mean to say they fed you only once a day, son?" He looked angry at the thought, disbelieving at the extent of his son's isolation. Frank was also disquieted, and they shared the same speculation. _Why did the criminals go to so much trouble?_

Joe shrugged with an air of indifference, though inside he remembered that his boredom had only intensified his hunger. "I was lucky to be fed at all, I guess." He decided that the rest of his stay was uneventful enough to skip.

"But just yesterday, sometime late morning I would guess, they came in and tied me up again. I struggled of course, but, uh...you know...there were too many." He didn't have to mention the discolored smattering of bruises on his face for his family to know what happened. "Anyways, they blindfolded and gagged me, then hauled me into the trunk of a vehicle. They were going to transport me somewhere; I don't know where or why."

He paused as he gathered his thoughts as to recall what happened next—since he'd been abruptly woken up and had been kind of groggy at the time—then recounted his escape.

**-:-**

**So, next time we hear how Joe escaped. I'll post Chap 6 soon! Btw, this story has a total of 8 chapters, then an epilogue. **


	7. Chapter 6

**(Ugh, finally, the site is working again!) And here's the chapter with Joe's retelling of his escape. **

**Don't own anything, except for an OC that comes up.**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 6**

SIX HOURS EARLIER

_He knew they'd been driving for a long time, hours and hours, though not enough to amount to a full day.__ By now he'd discovered that his captors hadn't tied his blindfold as tightly as they should've, and he could see over the top of it if he tilted his head down far enough. By some stroke of luck, he'd also found a sharp, broken edge jutting from the back seat he was leaning against and was still rubbing his bound wrists against it. Though his arms were sore from moving in such cramped and restricted conditions, he kept at it and knew the rope must be fairly close to being frayed enough for him to break. Meanwhile, he kept a surreptitious eye on the goon that was 'watching' him, making sure the thug didn't catch on to his movements._

_A thin sheen of sweat had developed over his face from nervousness and strain, and he struggled to control it. He glanced outside over the brim of his blindfold, and noted it was dark now. _

_After another fifteen laborious minutes, the monotonous hum of the vehicle suddenly changed as it slowed. He stopped working on his bonds for a moment so he could gauge what was going on. The vehicle slowed further and turned, and he caught the flash of a gas station sign outside the window. He tensed, knowing that if he was going to try an escape, now would be the time. He blindly felt the ropes around his wrists and decided they were breakable now._

_He waited for the telltale bounce that meant the men were getting out of the vehicle and with a sharp, quick jerk snapped the ropes apart, then loosened his blindfold even more, but kept it over his eyes. He readjusted himself so his hands were back together, hidden behind his back, and was pretending to be asleep when he heard the trunk door in front of him open. The place must have been pretty empty for someone to dare to check on him._

_Joe held his breath, biding his time until just the right moment, hoping to have the element of surprise. He heard only one set of footsteps near the back of the vehicle. Even better._

_He felt a sharp prod in his side accompanied by a harsh voice. "Wake up, kid." He didn't move, and only when the hands came back to shake him more violently did he explode. He lashed out with his hands and grabbed the man's arms, yanking him forward. He brought his knee up and thrust it into the man's neck before shoving him outward and slamming him into the ground. Fast as lightning, Joe was over him and running away, his blindfold having fallen down around his neck. He stumbled at first, his legs tingling from being in the same position for so long, but he regained his balance, pulled out his gag as he went, and took off faster than he could ever remember, fueled by adrenaline. If he didn't get away now, he never would._

_He could hear shouts and now gunshots behind him, and he started to duck and weave to make himself a more difficult target, aiming for the forest ahead of him. When he reached the trees, his gait didn't slow. He had to lose them. He hoped that the gunshots alerted someone in the gas station and that they called the police. If nothing else, at least the criminals might not risk going after him with the authorities so close._

_After what seemed like hours he finally stopped running and doubled over, gasping for breath and trembling from his exertion. He was too weak for this, not having eaten enough in months. After a few minutes he caught his breath and looked around to gain his bearings. He squinted in the darkness and saw a break in the trees to his right and headed for it, hoping to get a sense of where he was. It turned out the opening was the highway, and he could see the lights of the gas station about a half-mile down the road to his right. Unfortunately, in his state of constant weariness he hadn't gotten as far as he hoped._

_Still not sure where he was, Joe crossed the currently still highway and started walking away from the gas station, not wanting to chance being caught by the men again. _

_After only a couple minutes of walking he caught the sound of a car roaring up the road from behind him. On a whim, he stepped to the edge of the road and waved his arms to get the driver's attention. The car slowed but raced past him. He let his arms fall dejectedly until he saw the car roll to a stop on the side of the highway about a hundred feet away._

_Sighing in relief he jogged towards the dark blue sedan as an average-sized man of about thirty got out. Joe slowed, not wanting to alarm the man as well as because of an ingrained sense of caution, and held up his hands in innocence. The dark-haired man studied the scruffy-looking boy before speaking. "Hey, kid, you need a ride?"_

_Joe smiled placidly, "Yeah, maybe. Do you know which way Bayport is?"_

_The man nodded, "Yeah, it's about thirty miles that way." He jerked his thumb towards the way he was going._

_Slightly surprised that he was so close to home, Joe's smile grew. "Really? Well, uh, do you think you could give me a lift? Mr...?"_

_The man eyed the younger one suspiciously, who was dressed in a nondescript, disheveled gray sweatshirt and loose, matching sweatpants. "My name is Mark. Yeah, I could drive you, but only about fifteen miles, then I turn off."_

"_Hi, Mark. My name is Joe. And that's okay, it's better than nothing. You wouldn't happen to have a phone on you, would you?" he questioned hopefully._

_Mark shook his head. "Sorry, I actually forgot it at home a few days ago." He regained a somewhat distrustful look. "What happened to you? Why are you all the way out here? There's a gas station just back there down the road, you know."_

_Joe held up a hand. "Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." The corners of his mouth turned down as he glanced nervously back the way he'd come. "No, I can't go back there." Not wanting to get into it, especially not with a stranger, he deftly sidestepped the subject, all the while still trying to act reassuring. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you or anything." He chuckled weakly. "No pockets, see?" He dramatically turned around in a full circle._

_Mark's lips twitched and he snorted. "Alright kid, I won't ask. I'm sure you'll be in enough trouble with your parents as it is." _Or the police, _he added silently. Nevertheless, he motioned toward the car guardedly. "But you ride in the back, okay?"_

_The eighteen-year-old acknowledged the offer gratefully. If Frank were here and knew he was hitchhiking... "Thanks, and deal." He grabbed the handle of the rear door and sat himself down on the seat, diagonal to the man who was now in the driver's seat. He settled in wearily, knowing he soon had a long walk ahead of him. "You're a life saver, man. You're probably the only one who'll be driving out here for the rest of the night." He saw the time on the dashboard clock; it was about 9:30._

"_Yeah, maybe so." Glancing in the rear-view mirror, Mark noticed the boy leaning his head back and resting his eyes. He decided to leave the kid in peace for now, assuming he'd need all the energy he could get. He felt sorry for the young man, he'd probably have to walk the remaining fifteen miles to Bayport. He'd been right about there being a slim chance of anyone driving by, here in the middle of nowhere, much less someone who'd pick him up. Mark would drive him to Bayport himself, but he was already pressed for time; his flight left in less than two hours. He wasn't sure himself why he'd trusted the kid, but the man guessed it was because he just hadn't seemed like the dangerous, psycho killer type. Simply a guy fallen on some misfortune, whatever it was._

_After what seemed like mere seconds, Joe felt the car slow and opened his eyes as Mark said. "Hey, Joe? Sorry, you gotta get out now, if you want to get home."_

_Joe stretched then leaned forward and held out his hand. "Thank you, Mark. I owe you. I wish I could pay you back."_

_The dark-haired man smiled and shook the boy's hand firmly. He liked this kid. "Don't mention it." Making a split-second decision, he added, "And my name's Jensen. Mark Jensen. Look me up sometime."_

_Smiling back appreciatively, Joe withdrew his hand. "Joe Hardy. And I might just do that, Mark. Thanks again." With that, the blond-haired young man opened the door, stepped out, and walked around the back of the navy blue car. As the vehicle pulled away, he gave a little wave and saw Jensen return it. Joe waited until the car turned at the next right and disappeared from sight before sighing and beginning his long trek._

**-:-**

**And that's it for today. I'll probably update sometime tomorrow. This story is close to the end, so either be sad or celebrate, lol. Thanks for reading (and reviewing)!**


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"And then I basically walked for about five hours until I got to town, and that was when Frank...found me." Joe and Frank shared a slightly amused look, mutually deciding that their little 'run in' was unimportant now.

But then their light-hearted expressions fell away when everyone, aside from Joe, tried to grasp the entirety of Joe's imprisonment and months away. Almost imperceptibly his family shifted closer to him, to reassure both him and themselves. Everything could be okay now.

After a minute Fenton broke the silence to allay the tension and raised his eyebrow at Frank. "What _were _you doing out so late, Frank?"

Frank shrugged dismissively, "Does that really matter right now? It's a good thing I was." He clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he turned towards him, about to ask something.

Just then Laura piped up, tightening her hold on Joe's hand that she was still clinging to, "But Joe, none of that answers the question of how you are alive. No one could have survived that blast."

Frank, having switched his gaze to his mother when she spoke up, whipped his head back towards his brother, aghast that he could've forgotten this 'small' detail, even for just a little while. "Yeah, Joe, what happened?" He gripped Joe's shoulder tighter in earnest.

The blond youth's brows furrowed as he pondered this, then he reported in a strained voice, "Well...sometime after Crowe's men kidnapped me, right outside the store, no less," he could see Frank's teeth clench in aggravation but barely paused, "I woke up in that old house in a chair, my hands tied behind my back and feet to the chair. Already I could smell smoke from somewhere." Joe's expression grew bitter. "Standing in front of me was none other than Reggie Crowe."

This was all new to Fenton, and when he heard this, understanding dawned on him. Then he groaned. "I thought it was just Garth, working on his own. I forgot all about his brother." Looking grim-faced, the father summarized, "I put Garth Crowe away about seven years ago...along with his older brother Reggie. They escaped prison together about two years ago, but Reggie's been under the radar the whole time. I'd assumed they'd gone their separate ways."

His eyes widening, Frank continued the train of thought. "I kind of remember that. And during the case, we were only focused on Garth, since he's the one who's been causing so much trouble for the police. We didn't really even consider that Reggie might be a part of it." He shuddered.

Joe nodded impatiently, wanting to get this portion of his story out of the way. "Anyways, I recognized Reggie from the picture that was in Garth's file, and he got to talking." He rubbed his face in fatigue, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain before his gaze traveled to his father's face. "He and his brother wanted revenge on you, Dad. For tracking them down seven years ago and busting them. They knew you—along with us, this time—were back on the case since they'd broken out and decided they could lure _you_ out this time. That's where I came in. I didn't know at the time, but they'd been planning to kill me as a message to our family."

Joe turned to Frank once again and noted that the look of anger and pain was present again now that he'd reached the part that must have been so horrible for the older brother. Joe leaned against Frank reassuringly, then countered, "That is, until the last minute. They decided to fake my death instead." He ground out resentfully, "What could be worse than believing your son...brother...was dead, when he really wasn't?"

Frank regarded Joe, horrified but seeing the logic. It was true. It had been an unimaginable relief to find that his brother was alive, but to learn the truth, that he had been alive the whole time, when Frank was isolating himself to wallow in his grief...it was nearly unbearable.

Seeing the acknowledgment in his brother's face pained Joe, but he continued. "Tied up, I couldn't do anything. Reggie and some other henchman who was there blocked the only exit, I couldn't get up from the chair, and the fire had gotten very close by that time. I was facing the window and saw you outside when you called out, Frank. Immediately I saw Crowe—Garth, that is—behind you and I tried to warn you, but apparently you couldn't hear me." Joe grimaced. "I saw the whole thing, you getting attacked, the police showing up, Garth with the detonator." Joe's speech had slowed and each sentence now came jarringly. "But right about then Reggie came up from behind me, put a gun in my back, and started undoing the ropes. As he started hauling me back he said, 'Enjoy the show, kid? 'Cause it's over, for you,' and I looked out the window and...saw you, Frank, that last time before Reggie dragged me downstairs and out the back. We were barely fifty feet away when the house was blown to pieces."

A stunned silence followed Joe's revelation, broken only by a soft sob from Laura, who had succumbed to quiet tears again. Fenton turned to his wife and gently gathered her in his arms. Joe patted her arm soothingly, and his mother spoke in a troubled voice. "It's just so hard to take in. I mean...we had your _funeral_."

Joe snickered weakly and tried to lighten the mood. "Wow. I missed my own funeral. It's not every day that a guy has learns he has his own grave already." He sent his brother a resigned half-grin, half-grimace.

Thinking it _was_ kind of amusing in a dark way, Frank chuckled slightly in return, when all at once he was slammed with a recollection. Joe was alive...so who had they...?

Seeing Frank's bewilderment, Joe queried, "What is it, bro?"

"Uh, Joe, you're here, and not dead..."

The younger boy fixed his brother with a puzzled and concerned stare. "Yeah...I thought we'd already established that."

Frank cast him a sideways look before fixating his eyes on his parents. "...so who was it that we buried...in Joe's grave?"

**-:-**

**So, yeah...please review! Is this plausible, is it not...? I really appreciate your opinion. c=**


	9. Chapter 8

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I was caught up in some other stuff. Well, this is the last chapter, and next will be the epilogue. Please review!**

**-:-**

**CHAPTER 8**

_Seeing Frank's bewilderment, Joe queried, "What is it, bro?"_

"_Uh, Joe, you're here, and not dead..."_

_The younger boy fixed his brother with a puzzled and concerned stare. "Yeah...I thought we'd already established that."_

_Frank cast him a sideways look before fixating his eyes on his parents. "...so who was it that we buried...in Joe's grave?"_

Joe adopted a pained look on his face, now regretting making a joke about the matter. The question seemed to weigh heavily on everyone, since no one was sure how to respond. That is, until Joe murmured with a sickened expression. "I think I might know."

All eyes turned on him once again. "I never really occurred to me until now, but that other guy in the room with me and Reggie... I wasn't really paying attention to him, but now that I think about it, I don't remember him coming with us when we escaped the house. He was about the same size as me... You think...they could have sacrificed him for the sake of..._appearances_?"

Fenton's face grew speculative, and he said, "It makes sense. Your...the...remains were so charred the forensics team couldn't even use dental records to identify them. But we saw no one else in that house, so we just assumed..." He looked haunted at the thought, and Frank's face mirrored his father's.

Joe shook his head in disgust. "The lengths that some will go to for revenge." A thought struck him, something that had been eating at him, though he hadn't known what it was until now. He looked anxiously at his father. "You know, Dad, the Crowes wanted revenge before, and now that I've escaped..."

Understanding what his son was implying, Fenton rested a hand on Joe's shoulder. "Don't worry about that now. It sounds like they had to deal with the police, and even if they got away, they wouldn't dare risk coming here so soon." He smiled warmly and squeezed Joe's shoulder before removing his hand. "It can wait until morning." He glanced at the clock on the wall, bemused. "Well, later this morning."

Suddenly reminded of just how weary he was, Joe slumped in exhaustion. Now that the urgent stuff was taken care of, he could barely stay awake. Noticing this, Frank immediately stood and helped Joe up. "Come on, bro. I couldn't imagine how tired you must be, and here we've all been keeping you up."

Their parents also stood up. Laura enveloped her younger son again, clutching at him tightly, reluctant to let go. "It's so, so good to have you back, Joe. You have no idea."

He rubbed her back softly, and when she finally pulled away, he kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, Mom. I've missed you, too." With a watery smile, Laura ran her hand down his face.

"I love you, too, Joe." Her touch lingered, then she passed him and started up the stairs, where she stopped midway to wait for her husband.

Fenton laid his hand on Joe's arm briefly and let his eyes say all that was needed. After a moment, he patted Joe's arm and said, "Good night, son. If you need something, anything, just call."

Joe smiled at his dad and replied, "Thanks, Dad. I will, but I think I'll be fine now," he murmured with a glance at his brother.

Fenton nodded and joined his wife and they returned upstairs to their own room with frequent peeks back over their shoulders at their sons, beyond elation at the sight of the brothers side by side again. Both parents would sleep better than they had in months.

Frank nudged Joe. "Let's go." Following his brother, Joe also traipsed toward the stairwell, but then the older brother paused at the bottom. "You sure you don't want to call anyone first?" He was sure Joe knew how ecstatic all their friends would be to learn that he was alive.

Joe gave a faint but genuine smile. More than anything he wanted to talk to Vanessa, Biff, Tony, Chet, Phil, Callie...all of his friends. But he was struggling just to stay upright and instead he replied, "Nah, man, I seriously can barely stand right now. I'm even too tired to eat. I don't think I have the energy to explain any more." He hoped it didn't sound selfish, but tried to make up for it. "I think just a few hours should be enough for now, then I'll call everybody."

Now starting up the steps, Frank waved the suggestion aside. "No, Joe, sleep as long as you want. Seriously." He could see how dead on his feet his brother was. "Besides, it'll be less shocking if they talk to me first, don't you think?" He chuckled lamely.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Just...wait up on Vanessa, will you? I want to be there when you talk to her." The fair-haired boy longed to hear her voice.

"Don't worry, little brother, I'll wait till you're ready to talk to everybody. Vanessa should be the first one to know." Frank checked and saw that Joe was leaning heavily on the stair railing, staring morosely up the steps, and it seemed like his knees were about to give out.

The older brother scurried back down beside him and slipped an arm under Joe's and around his back, hauling him back to a steady position. "Easy, there, bro. Jeez, why didn't you mention before how tired you were?" Not expecting an answer, Frank helped Joe to the top of the stairs, where they stopped at the entrance to Joe's room. He surveyed his brother with concern. "Just...get some good, long rest, okay?"

Joe eyed his brother critically in return, becoming frustrated at his brother's lack of worry for himself. "What about you? I'm sorry, bro, but...you look terrible. What happened to you?" He didn't like how haggard and fragile his brother seemed under his grip. He appeared even worse than the younger one, and he'd been shut up in a concrete cell for three months!

Frank's body seemed to sag as he averted his gaze, and after a few moments of weighted silence he simply answered, "Like I said. It's been...hard." Boy, was that the understatement of the century.

Joe sighed heavily in exasperation and gathered his last remaining strength to remove himself from Frank's grasp and steady himself. "Yes, you've said that. But that doesn't tell me anything!" His brother was still staring at the wall. "Look at me!" He waited until Frank turned his head back towards him and met his eyes. Frank's bloodshot eyes reflected his own. "Frank...?"

Frank turned away again, unable to confront Joe's inquiry. "Nothing. It doesn't matter, now. You're back, safe, and that's the only thing that does matter."

Joe shook his head vehemently and grabbed his brother's turned shoulder, forcing him to face him. "No, Frank, it does matter. You can't...you can't do this to yourself! You look like you haven't eaten in weeks, haven't been outside in longer... Have you even been outside this house before tonight?"

Realizing his voice had risen, he glanced towards their parents' room and pulled Frank into Joe's room and swiftly shut the door. With a grip on each of Frank's upper arms, Joe examined his brother's face while fear crept into his lowered voice. "What were you going to do, huh? Let yourself waste away to nothing until you just dropped dead? How do you think that makes _me _feel?"

Without a word Frank slid his brown eyes up, and Joe could suddenly see just how broken his brother was. That tore at something inside the younger boy, and with a burst of regret and sympathy, Joe relaxed his harsh grip and let one of his arms fall to his side. He sighed resignedly. "Alright, Frank, I can't make you talk about it. Just...we'll get back to our old selves together, right?" With a half-forced smile he gestured to his own figure. "You'll have to catch up with me, though, big brother. Bet you can't beat me," he challenged with a wink as he sat on his bed. He saw that his attempt to lighten the mood had worked as he caught a flash of a smile on Frank's face and a nod.

Joe let his gaze travel around the room, noting how nothing had changed. As he caught sight of his wall calendar still turned to three months ago, the golden-haired brother tilted his head, trying to remember correctly. "Hey, bro, what day is it?"

Frank shrugged, not sure why he wanted to know. "I don't know, Tuesday?"

Joe waved his hand in an 'elaborate, please' motion. "No, no, what's the date?"

"July 14th, why?"

A broad grin broke across Joe's face. "Hey! I thought it had to be about that time. As I told you, I tried to count the days, but I didn't know how accurate I was. Anyway," he half stood up and held out his hand for Frank to high five, "happy birthday, man! Nineteen, huh? You're sure getting old!" His smile wavered slightly. "Sorry I couldn't get you anything." He gave Frank a remorseful look, even though there was no way it was his fault.

The look on Joe's face was just so woefully contrite—like a puppy that had just disappointed its owner—that tears welled in Frank's eyes as he swept Joe into one last, heartfelt embrace. _Stupid, stupid Joe, _he thought. "Don't be stupid, Joe. You being here...I'd never ask for anything more."

After a few more moments he pulled back with a joyous smile that lit up the room before looking around like Joe had. "I...I haven't been in here since..." His gaze alighted back on Joe and now that what had been missing had returned, he no longer feared this room and everything it had implied when empty.

They shared a short time of comfortable silence, then Frank reached out a hand and mussed Joe's hair affectionately. "What do you say we get some sleep?" When Joe yawned hugely in answer, Frank laughed heartily, the first time in months, and it felt good. "The sooner we do, the sooner we can get up and fill everybody in, right, kiddo?"

Joe nodded. He was looking forward to it. "Sounds like a plan to me." He immediately collapsed on his bed, groaning softly when his sore body complained, and murmured, "I'm serious, I don't even know how I'm still coherent right now. I'm so tire...so tired I could sleep for..." His voice trailed off as his head fell to the side.

Chuckling softly, Frank stepped forward and helped Joe get fully on the bed and under the covers. Gazing fondly down at his little brother, Frank hesitantly started for the door that led to his own room. He hated leaving Joe so soon after getting him back, but he wouldn't be far away. He switched off the light and with one last check on Joe, he ghosted into his own room, pausing just as he entered. With a huge, liberating breath he smiled to himself. Losing his shoes as he went, he glided to his bed and just like Joe fell into it with all his clothes on. He didn't even bother with the covers and rested his head on his pillow.

He was on the brink of sleep a couple minutes later when he heard his door creak nearly inaudibly. He cracked open his eyes in time to see his brother arrive at the edge of his bed. He was surprised to see the silhouette of his brother trembling slightly.

With an instinctive feeling of understanding, he sensed that Joe did not want to be alone in his dark room; it brought back too many of the horrors of his long-term isolation. The older brother shifted over so he was near the wall and in moments was wrapping his arms around the other boy, comforting, protecting, like when they were younger and Joe had had a nightmare. Frank tucked the blond head under his chin and whispered soothingly, "It's okay, Joe. You're not alone anymore."

Joe's trembling stilled and his breathing evened out as he fell asleep nearly instantly, safe in his brother's arms. One thing Frank knew for sure—Joe _would_ be safe now, he'd make sure of it. He knew this just as he knew he would not endure any nightmares of his own tonight.


	10. Epilogue

**Well, this is the epilogue. I know it will seem like an abrupt ending, but this is the way it was written. Hope I tied up all necessary loose ends. Thanks for sticking with me on my first full fanfic!**

**-:-**

**EPILOGUE **

ONE MONTH LATER

The laughs of Joe, Frank, and their friends reverberated through the Hardys' living room, and all their parents looking on with shared happiness. It was good for the teens to be all together again, and so relaxed. It was a surprise birthday party for both Frank and Joe, since neither of theirs had been celebrated officially yet. It was also a congratulatory party for Joe, who, despite his absence, had been able to get accepted into New York University, where Frank would also be attending his courses a second year.

Joe was sitting on the couch next to Vanessa, Frank with Callie on his other side, and was surrounded by their other friends, telling a joke that they all guffawed to. The eighteen-year-old's intense blue eyes sparkled as his laughter died down and he took a drink of soda from his cup. He felt completely at ease and content, right here with his family and friends.

He peered over at Frank, whose exuberant expression mirrored his own. The brothers had both been working hard every day to regain their muscle mass. They went running every morning to build up their endurance and lifted weights at the gym.

After Joe's return, Frank had suddenly felt hunger again and he and Joe had been eating huge meals every day in order to keep up with their workout regimen. Joe was almost back to his normal appearance, and though Frank was still a bit thinner than he had been, he looked and felt infinitely better. And it wasn't just the food that made Frank feel whole again. Despite that, still usually stuck on disbelief, Frank always had a need to make sure that this wasn't all a dream, that Joe really was back, for good.

A while later the only people who remained in the living room were Joe, Vanessa, and Frank. Their other friends had needed to go home or to work, the Hardy boys' parents were in the kitchen cleaning up, and the three on the couch were calmly conversing. A little while later Frank excused himself and went into the kitchen to see if his parents needed help.

Joe moved his arm from around Vanessa's shoulders to quickly brush aside his newly cut hair from his eyes before circling his arm around his girlfriend. He smiled warmly at her as she leaned back into his arm casually. He thought back to the day a month ago when he had called her for the first time since he had gotten home. He remembered her utter astonishment and elation at learning of his return, followed by the identical reactions from each one of his friends. Every single one had dropped all they were doing and were at the Hardy house within the hour. Their reunion had been joyous and tear-filled, all of them finding it hard to believe that Joe was really alive. Meanwhile, Fenton had called Ezra Collig and Con Riley, as well as his friend and former partner Sam Radley, to report about Joe, his abduction, and his homecoming. They, too, had expressed fervent cheer in Joe's apparent non-death.

Joe felt blessed to have so many friends who cared about him. He didn't know many people who had as many close friends as he and his brother had. They all stuck by them, even when the occasional time came that they were dragged into one of the Hardy brothers' cases.

Joe had been profoundly happy to learn that Vanessa had not moved on from him while he was gone. This made him feel a slight twinge of guilt, aware that he almost crossed the line of selfishness. He had told himself he would not blame Vanessa if she'd lost her feelings for him or found someone else, and it was true. That didn't change how relieved he was to see her delighted face when they reunited.

His reverie was broken as he felt his girlfriend shift under his arm and say his name. "Joe, I'm really sorry, but I have to go now. I have to be at work in an hour."

He put on a pouty face. "Aw, already, Van? Can't you be a little late?"

She laughed and slapped him lightly on the arm. "What do you mean 'already'? It's already four o'clock!"

Joe blinked in surprise as he saw that she was right from a glance at the clock on the wall. "Wow, this afternoon went so fast." Turning back to her he smiled crookedly. "Well, can't keep your oh-so-important job waiting." He leaned in for a light kiss before Vanessa heaved herself off the couch and Joe sat upright. With a little wave Vanessa flashed one last warm smile before leaving her boyfriend alone in the living room.

Joe still had a wide grin plastered on his face a few minutes later when his brother returned. Frank snorted. "Hey, bro, you keep that up and your face is going to get stuck like that."

The younger brother shot Frank a mock-sour look before he shrugged, beaming again. "Ah, whatever, give me a break. Today was probably the best birthday ever, belated though it was." He reclined back against the head of the couch, folded his arms, and closed his eyes contentedly.

Frank agreed wholeheartedly. "Yeah, it was." He took in the sight of his brother so carefree and relaxed with a satisfied feeling. It just felt so right to see his little brother, back and the same as before. Well, almost. He had gotten much better, but he had a little ways to go yet.

Joe had carried over and was still affected by a slight aversion to basements—and jail cells. And being alone for long periods of time. The blond-haired youth felt the most comfortable being with his brother or parents or one of their friends at any time. And Frank still woke up every now and then to see Joe sleeping in his room on the floor with a blanket and pillow, having suffered another nightmare. He'd almost stepped on him more than once.

It had helped boundlessly with Joe's settling back in quickly when the Hardys had received a call late the morning following his return. It was Chief Collig with the news that Reggie and Garth Crowe and many of their men had been caught.

Apparently, during Joe's impromptu escapade an employee from the gas station had run out to see what all the commotion and gunshots were about, recognized one of the Crowe brothers from the news, and had called the police right away. The cops had chased down the criminals who were trying to lose them, and managed to corner them sometime just after dawn. They were apprehended and taken to jail, where they awaited their trial for their previous crimes, in addition to the kidnapping of Joe. And that put some of Joe's fear at ease.

As for himself, Frank could recall how thoroughly relieved he also had been to learn that his brother's captors would soon be behind bars for life and couldn't hurt him or their family anymore, though it had seemed a bit anticlimactic. He couldn't help but retain a feeling of anxiety, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for it all to turn out to be an illusion and come crashing down. But Joe was still here, and they were all still safe.

Despite the three-month separation, the brothers were now closer than ever, what with Frank's constant protective hovering—often to Joe's annoyance, though he knew Frank meant well and secretly appreciated it more than he let on—and the fact that the younger Hardy regularly confided in his older brother about his time spent locked in that cell.

The dark-haired teen could safely say that within no time Joe would be completely and totally back to his happy-go-lucky and impetuous self, and in a few years the two would work together, solving investigations of their own professionally.

_Speaking of which..._

With a double click of his fingers to get Joe's attention Frank leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hey, Joe?"

Joe peeked open his eyes. "Yeah, what's up, Frank?"

"You think you're up for a case soon? You gotta be itchin' to get back in the game by now."

Joe smirked and stretched dramatically. "Why, you getting impatient, big brother?" He chortled good-naturedly with a wink. "Don't let me hold you back." 

Frank smiled and shook his head. "You know I won't start a case without you there to back me up." It was true. Though it had been months since he'd worked a case and in normal circumstances he'd have been going crazy with boredom by this point, he'd felt no urge to even look at a potential job, not even since Joe's homecoming. Not until he was sure his brother was ready. To be honest with himself though, he would be hesitant even if Joe were raring to go. He couldn't help but constantly think about what had happened on the last case they undertook... But he had to get back in the saddle, right? Even though he felt he didn't wholly deserve his brother's trust anymore.

Joe snorted in disagreement and smirked. "Yeah, sure, bro. You and I both know you could solve a mystery on your own, no problem."

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation at his brother's total faith in Frank's abilities. "You don't give yourself enough credit, little bro. As 'you and I both know', you've solved a case and saved my butt a time or two," he retorted sardonically. _And that's an understatement, _he added to himself, then continued more seriously. "No, really, Joe. I won't even touch a case file until you're ready."

The younger boy smiled sincerely. "Well, now that you mention it, I've probably gotten a little rusty. It's been a while, you know. I might even be worse than you!" he winked again. Then he watched warily as Frank got up, walked over to stand in front of him, and reached over to whack the blond in the back of the head playfully. "Hey!" the young Hardy exclaimed in mock irritation.

Frank laughed and acted like he hadn't done anything. "Then we'll start off easy for you, little brother." Still standing, he offered Joe a hand up off the couch.

Accepting it, Joe vaulted up as he pretended to sound miffed. "Who me? I'm waiting on you, big brother. Come on, old man, we'll get a little missing dog case for you to start with. Baby steps, eh?" He dodged a half-hearted swipe from his brother.

Frank looked his brother in the face with an earnest expression, making serious of the situation again. "Whatever it is, you know I got your back, right?" He hoped he hadn't lost Joe's trust beyond finding. He didn't seem to know how wrong he was.

Without hesitation, Joe replied as he clapped Frank on the shoulder and held his hand there for a heartfelt moment. "I've never doubted it, bro."

THE END

**-:-**

**I know this was a bit of a shallow story with some holes in it, but if anyone is at all interested in delving deeper into some parts of the story, go right ahead! (Just tell me of course.) But I'm sure you all have your own story lines to focus on, so this is probably the end of this fic. Again, thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed, I really appreciate it!**

**Sorry, I really never plan to write a) more on this story or b) any other story in the future. Like my SPN tags, I might spontaneously write stuff like that, but otherwise I don't see myself writing another full length story. But I guess we'll see. :) It all depends on inspiration/time/motivation.**

**~ MMShadowWolf**


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